Thanks for the Memories
by jibber59
Summary: In a moment, everything can change. The question is, can it ever change back?
1. Chapter 1

It was going to be good to have everyone together again. After relocating in Portland there had been a bit of a period of adjustment. Eventually Sophie grew to accept the new home base, throwing herself into her newly acquired theatre complete with acting classes. Hardison's devotion to the Brew Pub and his eclectic taste in beer creations kept him busy, and constantly threatened to send Eliot into apoplectic fits. Finally giving up on trying to control Hardison's impulses, Eliot simply took over the kitchen of the pub, altering the menu and creating a Portland restaurant that had become one of the "go to" places in town. After several months of back to back jobs, and possibly just a little too much togetherness, they decided a bit of down time might be a good idea, even if it was just a couple of weeks. Of course, they had a slightly different definition of quiet than most people. Hardison and Parker planned a bit of travel time, and maybe a few repelling lessons. Nate and Sophie also spent their time together, but hadn't strayed far from home, Sophie being unwilling to abandon her future Oscar winners so early in their training. Nate kept busy with a bit of client review and a lot of sailing and relaxing. Eliot's plans, as always, had been a mystery, but the others were willing to bet he hadn't been working on his tan on a tropical beach. In some god-forsaken desert maybe, but not a beach.

Now Nate was at his usual spot at the Pub bar while Sophie was upstairs freshening up as they anticipated the arrival of the rest of the team. She came in from the offices just as Hardison and Parker arrived, discussing the merits of various vacation plans.

"Trust me, Eliot will be on my side on this Parker. No way is he going to agree to a team trip to repel off the Eifel Tower."

"Sure he will – **he** has a sense of adventure."

"Yeah, but his idea of a good time is liberating a country, not jumping off a tourist attraction. Nate man, back me up on this."

Nate just grinned at the two of them, and walked over to the bar to refill his coffee as Sophie joined them at the table.

"I would love to go to Paris with you Parker, but my plan would be shopping. There are some fabulous designer boutiques, and the shoes! But no towers, and definitely no jumping!"

"Someday you have to explain to me why you need so many shoes. I mean seriously, you can only wear one pair at a time. And none of yours are even remotely practical for climbing or repelling. Even your boots are wrong." Sophie shook her head sadly at everything she believed Parker was missing out on.

Hardison turned to Nate. "So, you have any jobs lined up, or do we have a day or two to regroup."

"A couple of possibilities. We can go over everything when Eliot shows up; assuming he remembers today was our rendezvous date."

"Don't suppose you know where he was, or what mischief he was up to this time?"

"Hardison, when has Eliot ever provided details?"

They moved over to a table near the back, sipping coffee and filling the others in on their assorted adventures, waiting for their 5th member to arrive. After about an hour, Nate was ready to head to the office and start without him, when a familiar but unexpected figure came through the door. Nate's greeting caught in his throat as he saw Shelly spot them at the table and head over. The look on the soldier's face sent a chill through him. The others at the table turned when they saw Nate's reaction.

"Shelly." Nate nodded his welcome. "How much trouble is he in?"

Eliot's friend reached out to the empty chair at the table. He started to pull it toward him, then looked at it as if he had decided he was intruding on someone's space. He really hadn't expected to find them all here together, almost like they'd been waiting for him. Of course, they weren't. They were waiting for Eliot. He remained standing as he started what sounded like an well rehearsed monologue.

"Five of us went on a recovery mission. We had intel on a couple of American's who had been grabbed by a terrorist faction. Both of them had served with me and Eliot a million or so battles ago. I knew he'd want to help, which is why I called him in, along with some other old friends. We found the encampment. Along with our boys there were a bunch of civilians, including about 25 girls that had been taken from a school a few weeks earlier. We scoped it out and made our move in. Took out the guards and started to clear out our targets and the civilians. That's when the second wave of terrorists came in and all hell broke loose. Eliot kept going back in, bringing out more kids." His voice dropped to just above a whisper, and was raw with emotion. "Damn idiot kept going back in."

Shelly stopped for a moment to rein himself back in. No matter how many times he had run this speech in his head, saying it out loud, to these people, was more than he had expected. He looked at them watching his every word. They knew where he was going, or at least they thought they did. He knew they expected him to tell them where Eliot was being held, and to tell them what the plan was to bring him home, and how they could help. He wished to God that was where the story was going. They continued to stare at him.

"The compound was wired. When they realized the battle wasn't going their way, they set everything off. The blast left a crater where the main building had been. It was bad Nate – real ugly. We did a fast search for injured and retreated to a refugee camp." He held up a hand to stop the interruption he saw coming. "Eliot put his life on the line to save those kids – we owed it to him to get them outta there. It's what he would have told us to do – if he could." Nate gave a barely perceptible nod of agreement and waited for him to continue.

"We went back to search for any other survivors. And to bring back the dead." There – he'd said the word. He reached into his pocket and brought out a small black velvet bag, placing it on the table. Swallowing, he wet his lips and forced himself to keep his voice steady. "We didn't find…there was nothing… I found his watch, and a leather bracelet. Couldn't even find the damn dog tags. He always wore them on this kind of job, just in case. They weren't his military issue, but they…" His voice began to crack as his focus seemed to fade. "Ah shit. The building disintegrated when it blew Nate. There just wasn't anything else to bring back. I'm so sorry guys. I wish I'd never called him. I never should have…" He turned to leave, not wanting them to see him lose control, but Nate stopped him, directing him instead to a nearby table.

"Give us a few minutes. I want to talk to you, but give us a couple of minutes." Shelly nodded numbly and sat as Nate turned back to his team. There were no words being spoken. None of them looked at the others, each wanting to believe that denying the moment would somehow negate the reality. Slowly, Hardison reached out for the bag, picking it up, but not opening it. He hefted it in his hand, feeling the weight of so much more than just the contents. Parker's hand covered his, lightly touching the last connection they had to their friend, then pulling her fingers back quickly, as if burned.

Sophie had not moved, mumbling "no, no, no" repeatedly under her breath, shaking her head ever so slightly. Nate gently placed a hand on her shoulder and she practically jumped out of her seat at the unexpected touch. "This can't be right. It's a mistake. He's wrong Nate. He must be wrong."

"Shelly wouldn't be here if he didn't believe it. He'd still be there looking. You know that Sophie."

Parker found her voice. "No – Eliot wouldn't leave us. He wouldn't abandon us."

"He didn't abandon us – he was helping his family" Hardison spoke softly. "You know that's exactly what Eliot would do."

"We're his family."

"So were they Parker. Brother's in arms. You've heard him talk about Shelly and the others like that. They were his brothers too. Hardison, take Sophie and Parker back to the office. I want to talk to Shelly for minute, and then I'll be there."

Slowly the trio walked to the back, ignoring all that was going on around them. Nate inhaled deeply, trying to find the reserve to keep it together at least a few more minutes. He pulled up a seat at the next table, and looked at the stricken young man sitting there.

"Shelly, you know Eliot would be pissed off at you for blaming yourself about this. Like I said to Parker, he thought of you all as brothers. This is what you do for brothers. How do you think he would have felt if you'd been the one killed while he sat at home oblivious to what was happening?"

"I owe him for this Nate. I know what you're saying, and you're not wrong, but I owe him. I can't do what he did for you – for the team. I'm not – what did he call it? – a retrieval specialist. We aren't the same guys that way. But if you need me, if you need back up – you call. Please. Let me do that for him."

"If we need you, we'll call. Is there anything we – I – need to do about Eliot? I know there aren't remains…" Nate had no idea how he could sound so calm and rational when he could feel himself falling apart.

"I've notified Colonel Vance – he will take care of any official, or for that matter unofficial, notification. That includes his family in Oklahoma. Nate, I just...I wish…"

"Shelly, it was good of you to come out here from Boston to let us know. It was right. We appreciate it and so would Eliot. I know it wasn't easy. We'll stay in touch." Nate patted him on the shoulder and walked over behind the bar, grabbing a bottle of Jack before going back to join what was left of his team in the office.

They sat at the desk, looking at anything but each other. No one spoke, not finding any words to adequately deal with the situation. Nate put the bottle in the centre of the table before heading over to the wall safe. Once opened, he pulled out an envelope, and retrieved a memory stick from it that he tossed to Hardison. The hacker looked at it, then back to Nate.

"It's from Eliot. He left it and these" Nate pointed to the envelope "…in case."

"You know what's on here?" he asked, plugging the stick in.

"I've got a pretty good idea, but no specifics."

A video icon popped up on the computer and Hardison clicked it A moment later Eliot's voice filled the room as his image appeared on the wall screen. Parker whimpered slightly and Sophie held her breath. Nate turned away from the screen.

"Well, since you're watching this, I blew it. Somewhere, somehow, I screwed up. I'm sorry. I never wanted you to have to watch this, but I knew odds were you would. There is a good reason there are no retirement homes for hitters.

As long as I made sure none of you got hurt though, I'm OK with this. I know you hate it when I say it's my job, so I won't, but it is – was. Was more than that though. It was my privilege. You all made a huge difference for a lot of people over the last few years – including me. I know I can't ever fix what I was – what I did before I met you. But because of the four of you, the scales have tipped a little. That means more to me that I can ever let you know.

Obviously I have no idea what happened, but I do know this. If it was on a job, there is only one person to blame. Me. You all know me well enough by now to know I wasn't letting anybody try something I couldn't cover, so if it went south it's 'cause I didn't see it coming. No guilt trips, no pity party. And **no** revenge. You can't refuse a man his dyin' request, and that's mine. Whatever happened – it's over. If this was a job, then it was bigger than we thought. And if it was someone from my past – well, trust me. I don't want you – any of you – taking on the guys who would come after me. I mean it Nate. I have enough blood on my hands. No way do I add any of you to the list.

OK – just a couple more things. You're gonna have to watch over each other for me. Hardison, you mess things up with Parker – hurt her in any way, and I will find a way to come back and kick your ass. Parker – same deal with Hardison. He needs your kind of crazy to keep him from getting boring. Sophie, keep reminding Nate of what I said about blame. And if he insists on pulling himself back down for God's sake don't let him take you with him.

Sorry Nate, but it had to be said. I know you, and I know how you were. I hope that is really all in the past. I don't want to be the guy who gave you the excuse to crawl back into a bottle. You need to be the Nate Ford who brought us together, turned us into the good guys when we weren't looking. Sophie deserves it. So do Hardison and Parker. So do I. And so do you." The recording ended, and the room was silent. Nate went to the table where he had left the bottle, and poured 5 shots, placing one in front of each of them, with the last at the empty chair.

"One for you Eliot – one last drink." He raised it to his lips, paused, and put in down untouched. The others looked at their glasses, but no one reached out. Nate slowly lowered himself to the floor in the middle of the room where he'd been standing, and quietly wept.

 _TBC – Don't hate me. And don't panic!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Not exactly what I thought was going to happen next, but sometimes the story has an agenda you simply can't deny._

Sophie walked into the Pub, silently removing the black wreath from the door. She left the "Closed due to death in the Family" sign posted. They would open again tomorrow, but for one more day the restaurant would remain silent.

Well, not exactly silent. Someone was in the kitchen, putting away the delivery of fresh produce and supplies. Everything had been donated to a food bank when they'd agreed to close up for a week. The rest of the staff would be back in tomorrow to try to resume a semblance of normalcy in their lives, even though they all knew that would not, could not, happen.

Laying the wreath on a side table Sophie made her way to the back. She avoiding looking into the kitchen, into Eliot's domain. It looked too empty these days, and she knew it would, regardless of what was going on there.

Stepping into the office she thought about everything that had gone on in the last few days, and still found herself unable to fully grasp the situation. Most of the past 7 days were a bit of a blur. Nate had called a few of Eliot's contacts, and let them spread the word. He had been sure to call Quinn himself. Despite their initial meeting, Quinn and Eliot had forged a rather unique bond of friendship recently, and he deserved to here the news directly. His first reaction had been expected, asking who needed to be killed in retaliation. It took some convincing to assure the young hitter that no such actions were needed in this case. He promised to stay in touch with the team, and to be there in a heartbeat if his assistance was ever needed. Sophie remembered calling Tara to let her know what had happened. The blonde grifter had tried to be cool and detached, but it didn't take too long until the two women were both sobbing into the phone and trying to comfort each other long distance. She had offered to come to Portland, but Sophie assured her there was little point at this time. There would be no service or wake. The team had considered it, but given the circumstances, it didn't seem like a reasonable action. Besides, Eliot hated ceremony and formality. He'd rather everyone just had a quiet (or not so quiet) drink in his memory and move forward. That's what they were now trying to do.

She sat beside Nate, who had barely looked up to acknowledge her arrival. "Still sorting through his papers?" she asked softly.

"I can't get over how organized he was about all of this." Nate shook his head. "I can't believe how much preparation he put into his – his death. God Sophie, my will still includes Maggie and Sam, and here I look at Eliot's affairs and he had every detail mapped out. Not just the will – everything. The contingencies he thought out. Not just what to do if he died, but what to do if he was injured and couldn't take care of… What to do if he'd gone missing." Nate's voice broke slightly. "What to do if he died and there was no body to prove it, or if we couldn't go to the authorities. He lived every day fully expecting to die before the end of it."

"No Nate, not expecting to – ready to. He knew the chances he took, and he knew why he took them. Just the fact that he was so organized about it showed that."

"He shouldn't have been so damned detached about it. Maybe if he cared a bit more, he wouldn't have taken so many chances."

"Is that what you told Shelly? What you've been telling Parker and Hardison?"

"Of course not."

"No – you reminded them that every decision Eliot made was made out of concern and compassion, even though he'd never admit that to anyone, even himself. Eliot cared in the only way he could. He told me once that he knew he was going to Hell for the life he'd led, but if he could help balance the scales some, then he could accept the consequences. Personally, I think the scales were balanced years ago, but I gave up trying to convince him of that. He did what he did because it kept him sane, kept him stable. Kept him from going off the deep end."

"From sinking all the way down." Nate nodded mostly to himself at a remembered conversation.

"Exactly. So how do you think he'd respond to your reaction?"

Nate grinned, just a little. "He'd be pissed."

"No kidding." She smiled back at him. "So, did you find addresses and keys?"

"Of course – like I said, he was incredibly organized."

The envelope Eliot had left in their office safe included consent for Nate to take care of every aspect of the estate. He'd been given power of attorney for all matters financial and medical. His money was all set up in trusts, with Nate having full signing authority. Properties were jointly listed, and Nate and Sophie decided there was no point in postponing the inevitable any longer. Today they would begin packing up those properties and moving forward. Parker and Hardison had been left out of the discussion. They were still in shock, not yet fully ready to deal with the new reality, and the senior team members had no desire to force anything this emotional onto them yet. The time would come that they would have to face the facts, but that time did not have to be today.

Grabbing his jacket from the back of the seat, Nate stood. He pocketed one of the sets of keys, took Sophie by the hand and they quietly left the office.

From her perch on the roof, Parker watched the duo head out. She wondered where they were headed, knowing there were no jobs in the works. Maybe it had something to do with the restaurant opening again. Maybe they were just getting out for a bit. Just going out, just doing normal things again. Parker doubted she would ever feel like doing normal things again. Eliot would have laughed at that, and told her she'd never done them before, so why start now. She smiled, hearing that laugh in her head. When she heard footsteps behind her, she turned, expecting to see him there.

Hardison watched her face transition from smile to shock to sorrow in the blink of an eye. She'd forgotten again, for just that moment. He brought reality back to her, and hated himself for doing so.

"What are you doing up here Hardison?"

"I was about to ask you the same question."

"Weeding the garden." Hardison looked at her with his mouth hanging open. Of all the possible answers he had considered, that had not even entered his mind.

"Eliot grows his herbs and stuff up here. Somebody has to take care of it until he bets back, so I got some books. At least now I know which ones are weeds and which ones are" she paused, looking down at the soil and the book perched beside it "cilantro."

He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to hide his reaction to her ongoing use of the present tense. He was less than successful.

"What? He's coming back Hardison, and he'll need these in the kitchen. I do not intend to have him mad at me for letting all of this d.." She caught herself. She would not use the word die in any context involving Eliot. If nobody said it, it wasn't true.

"Parker…"

"NO! He's coming back. Shelly was wrong. You're wrong. Eliot didn't get killed in some damned God-forsaken little village without anyone there for him. That's not right. That's not fair." He tried to reach for her but she leapt back. "You can't tell me that's what happened. I won't listen." She turned her back and took another step away, but this time Hardison was too fast for her. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. When she tried to break free, he just pulled tighter. After a few moments of struggling she stopped moving, and the fury turned to frailty as she trembled against him.

"He's not coming home, is he?" She whispered in a voice almost to soft to be heard. "He's never coming home." Hardison said nothing, but gently kissed the top of her head. They lost track of how long they stood there, not moving, barely breathing. Finally, Parker slowly pulled back, rubbing a hand over her face to try to wipe away the tears. When she looked up at Hardison he had to bite his lip to fight off the grin.

"What?"

"You got yourself one pretty little mess there girl. How many weeds did you pull?"

She looked down and saw the garden dirt on her hands, and pictured what must have now transferred to her face. She too, found herself fighting the urge to laugh.

"Think I pulled more herbs than weeds. Guess I'm going to have to learn more about this if we're going to keep this garden going. For Eliot." Hardison's heart began to sink again until she finished her thought. "Eliot's memorial garden. As long as we keep it going, it keeps him with us – part of the kitchen."

"Damn girl – how'd you get to be so smart?"

"Good teachers."

Late that evening Nate and Sophie returned to the restaurant and settled in at a table. They were soon joined by the others, who had been called in for the informal meeting.

After an awkward couple of minutes, Hardison spoke.

"Kitchen is all set for tomorrow. Everything is set up – nothing's being changed."

"Yeah – we're keeping Eliot's menu, not that anyone can make the stuff as good as he did, but at least it will be his stuff."

Nate was relieved to here Parker talk about Eliot in the past tense at last. Her denial had been worrying all of them, but somehow she had found the strength to take the next step. He hoped that would make the next few minutes a little easier.

Without speaking, he reached over to the table beside them and retrieved the small box he had placed there on his arrival. It had been one of the first things he and Sophie found at Eliot's apartment. There was nothing fancy about it. A simple cardboard box labeled "for my friends" in faded ink. In a darker – newer – ink, friends had been crossed out, and family written beside it. It sat in the centre of a coffee table, with nothing near by. As they looked through the house Sophie found a space on the bookshelves where, she deduced, the box sat when Eliot was not on a job. Not out doing something from which he might not return. This had been left for them to find, and had likely been moved to that table innumerable times in the past.

He opened the box, as he had done at the apartment. This time though, he removed the contents and handed them out accordingly. Three envelopes were distributed and one, his, remained inside.

Hardison was the first to yield to his curiosity. Picking up the envelope he was surprised there was more weight to it than he had expected. As it was opened, a chain fell to the table. Picking it up he felt a chill move through him. Dog tags dangled from the end – Eliot's dog tags.

Parker stared, confused, but before she could speak Hardison started reading the note.

" _I don't have a lot of me that I can leave to people. It's not who I am._ _But there are somethings, some very important things, that need to have a safe home when I'm gone._ _When I joined the service I was proud to wear the uniform. That time, those early days, helped me become someone other that a hot tempered out of control kid who could find more trouble than any other 10 folks combined._ _I learned discipline, and inner strength and what was really important in life._ _Then I started learning other stuff._ _And the more I learned, the less I wore the tags._ _Still was military, just not anything to be proud of anymore._ _I stopped being me, and the tags didn't represent anything anymore. I put them away._ _Put that part of me away._ _For years._ _I'd almost forgotten I owned them._ _Then, slowly, because of 4 people who saw past the exterior, that part of me started to wake up again. And after time, a lot of time, I was able to pull the tags out of the past and remember the kid who wore them._ _He still wasn't ever coming back, but I could at least remember who he'd been._ _The tags meant something again._ _I think you saw that in me in a way no one else did._ _Maybe it's 'cause you'll always be a bit of a kid yourself._ _That's a good thing._ _That hope and spirit are important._ _So you keep these for me now._ _Keep a little bit of both kids alive."_

Sophie gulped her drink down, trying desperately to maintain a bit of composure. Nate dipped his head, smiling at how even now, Eliot could surprise them. Parker reached over to Hardison, gently squeezing his hand before picking up her own envelope. Once again, a chain was inside. This one had a small coin hanging from it. She looked to the others, but all were clearly as mystified as she was. She unfolded the short note.

" _I know you don't keep things Parker. They don't matter to you. It's the money itself, more than what it does or what it gets, that you like._ _That, and the thrill of finding new ways to steal it._ _But sometimes things break through and take on meaning, whether we want them to or not._

 _I was on a job – the details don't matter. There are still things you don't need to know._ _When all was said and done, there was a young girl, 7, maybe 8 years old, left in what used to be a drug lord's village._ _She was alone, scared, and wickedly defiant._ _Took a lot of talking to convince her I wasn't just some mercenary looking for a pay out (although she wasn't far off with that idea)._ _She wouldn't believe that I just wanted to take her home; take her back to her family._ _But finally she let down her barriers enough to share a little trust._ _When I walked her up to her home the next day and turned to leave she held onto my hand and begged me to wait for a minute._ _The minute dragged out as she was all but smothered in welcoming hugs from her family, who were all smart enough to not trust me in the least._ _But she pulled away and ran into what I guess was her room._ _A few minutes later she came out and pressed this coin into my hand._ _She said it wasn't much, but I knew it was all she had._ _I tried to tell her I couldn't take all she had and she smiled and looked at her family._ _This – she said pointing to them – is all I need._ _Nothing else._ _It was the best payment I ever got, and a hell of a lot more than I deserved, everything considered._ _Now you need to safeguard the only piece of currency that has ever actually mattered to me._ _I hope you understand why._

Hardison reached over and picked up the chain from the table. Before she could object, he had reached behind Parked and slipped it over her head, and watched it settle around her neck. He then did the same with his chain, pressing the dog tags against his chest. They looked to Sophie, and with shaky hands she picked up her letter. Once again, a chain fell, but this was a fine gold chain with a delicate porcelain yellow rose dangling from it. It was so un-Eliot she paused, wondering if there was some cosmic joke attached to this.

" _I don't do sentimental. I don't hold onto things, so as a result, I don't have much to give. But what I do keep is important, and it needs to be left in the hands of someone who will understand that._ _This belonged to my mom."_ Sophie had to struggle to breath for a moment. She squeezed the small rose tightly but carefully into her palm and closed her eyes for a few seconds. Feeling Nate's hand on her arm she opened her eyes, focusing them back on the letter, knowing if she looked at the others she would not be able to go on. " _I used to think she was the only person who would ever understand me. When everyone saw a fighter and a trouble maker, she saw a kid who just didn't know how to deal with his anger and insecurity._ _Just like you saw a man who, years later, still didn't have a clue._ _You saw past my self doubt – make that my self loathing – and forced me, and helped me, to find the guy underneath that._ _Given how deeply he was buried, that was one hell of an accomplishment._ _Mom would have liked you._ _She would have wanted you to have this._ _I know I do."_

Nate did for her what Hardison had for Parker a few moments earlier. Pulling her hair out of the way, she allowed him to fasten the clasp and she felt the rose settle against her body. She knew she would never be taking it off.

Finally, Nate reached into the box and remove the last envelope. He couldn't keep the surprise off his face as he registered the absence of any weight. Sure enough, nothing fell to the table. His envelope contained only a single sheet of paper. He fought an underlying sense of despair as he picked up the document. He didn't know why Eliot would have deemed him unworthy of a tangible memory, and wasn't sure he wanted the others to hear the reasoning, but knew there was really no choice in the matter.

" _I know you saved this until last Nate. It's how you work._ _And I know you are wondering why I left nothing to you._ _Look around you Nate._ _I am leaving you the most important thing in my world._ _I am leaving you my trust._ _My trust that you will take care of these people with every fibre of your being._ _My faith that you will not go back to the old ways, but that you will rally and take care of them in the ways I can't do anymore._ _I don't expect you to do my job, I expect you to_ _ **not**_ _do it._ _To not take on more than you can handle._ _To ask for help when you need it._ _Walk away when you have to._ _Listen to my annoying voice in your head telling you to back off. I'm leaving you my family to take care of._ _Nothing is more important to me Nate._ _Nothing."_

They sat quietly together, each in their own world, but sharing the moment as only family can.


	3. Chapter 3

_It has been brought to my attention that I should point out I am writing this for shear pleasure and not profit. I also apparently write it because I enjoy making my followers cry - a lot. So, this and all Leverage based writing I do is at the indulgence of those who do own the rights, and is done with love and respect for the creators, writers and actors who have brought the gang into our living rooms (or any other room you care to use - I don't judge!)._

 **Thanks for the Memories - chapter 3**

 _FOUR MONTHS LATER_

It was quiet in the offices; not an unusual state of affairs these days. Jobs were rarer now than they had been, and usually favoured the consulting side of Leverage Consulting far more than the hands on nature the work had been. Nate tried to keep the team on task, but focus was lacking. Hardison was kept busy, as most jobs involved research and some creative computer play to achieve the goal. Parker still did some basic break and enter, but spent most of her time planning elaborate break-ins that remained theoretical (at least for the moment). So far she had scoped out entrance to pretty much every museum in the US and several aboard, as well as three international financial reserves, and Fort Knox. Sophie could be found at the theatre more often than not. She continued with classes, but had yet to mount any kind of production. Her heart had not been in it for some time now, and she knew that if things didn't pick up soon, she would start to lose her students.

They hadn't taken on any real jobs, not the kind they used to. They had tried a few. Brought Quinn in the first time they decided they needed a hitter, but he wasn't a long term team player, at least not for their team. They had even called on Shelly for a job, but it was just too painful, too awkward. Having him there was a tangible reminder of what was wrong, and his guilt was intense.

Jason, the new manager at the Brew Pub, knocked on the frame to the office door before entering. The tray he was carrying was the source of a wonderful aroma that filled the room.

"I've got something here you guys should try. It's the trial run of the new guy I'm thinking of hiring for the kitchen. He came in this morning. Resume is virtually non-existent, but you have got to try his cooking."

"Sure – leave it on the desk and we'll give it a taste." Hardison looked up from the screen. "What about the waitress jobs – are we back up to full staff?"

Jason stopped his exit from the room. "Just about – would like to get floater for evenings if possible. Seriously man – try this stuff" he added as he left. Jason had come on board a couple of month back when Hardison realized he had neither the time nor inclination to give the Pub the attention it deserved. He wanted to keep thing running, the way Eliot would have wanted, but spending time on the day to day operations had lost a lot of its appeal. He compromised by hiring a manager, a fresh face who would be good for business. The mood of the place over the last few months had resulted in a significant turnover of the restaurant staff, but slowly things seemed to be getting back on track. They had a good, albeit unimaginative, chef running the kitchen, but still needed an assistant to cover the schedule. With any luck, they could find someone who might liven up the menu a bit as well.

Hardison picked up the plate of spring rolls and stuffed mushrooms from the desk, taking them over to Nate, devouring a mushroom as the handed the plate over. In mid-bite he froze. He knew this taste. He'd first experienced it years ago, in the kitchen at Mosconi's house. Eliot had made them for the wedding. He was as sure of that as he had ever been of anything in his life.

Without looking up from the files, Nate grabbed a spring roll and took a bite and was struck with the same Deja-vu. His encounter was more recent, but he knew the rolls. They looked at one another, each about to comment on the sensation when they realized it was shared.

"Jason – get back here" Nate bellowed in a tone that brought the manager running as if the hounds of hell were after him. "The chef – the new guy. Tell me everything you know."

"Said he saw the ad. Didn't have any training that he could tell me about, but brought in the rolls. I had him make up the mushrooms in the kitchen so I could be sure he was actually the guy doing the work."

"Does he have a name?"

"Huh – oh yeah. Sure. Evan Simmons."

Hardison's knees went weak, and he was glad he'd been beside a chair at that moment as he dropped into it. Simmons had been an alias for Eliot on a job they'd done a couple years back. He was fighting every instinct he had to run into the kitchen. "What else do you know about him?"

"Not much. Like I said, no resume. Very vague about his past. Looks like he may have been hurt a while back – seems to be protecting his left arm a bit, and has a slight limp. If I had to guess, I'd say his has some military background from the way he carries himself. I'd also guess he's a loner. He's friendly enough, but not too open. Could be he just takes time to warm up to people, but I get the feeling there is more."

"Very observant. You always size people up that way?"

"What can I say? I'm a people watcher."

Nate smiled. "Good trait to have. Tell me, did – Evan? – seem familiar with this place? Comfortable in the kitchen?"

"Familiar – no, not really. I mean, he was looking around for stuff. But then, he's never been here before, so naturally he'd have to search. Comfortable – definitely. Like it was almost second nature to be cooking. He moves around in there like it's all he's ever done. And he flips that knife around like a freakin' ninja!"

"Is he still here? Great – give us about 5 minutes then send him back here." Jason nodded again and left.

"Nate – what the hell is going on? I mean, this is just weird."

"Jason said he was likely hurt – we know when that happened. My guess is it messed him up – seriously messed him up. Either physically or mentally. Or both."

"So he became Evan Simmons? On purpose? I mean, does he know he's Eliot and is hiding it, or does he really think he's Evan? No, can't be trying to hide or he wouldn't come here. Why Evan? That was like two years ago, and was such a minor deal as well. Why would he even remember that name?"

"Hardison, slow down. I don't know any more than you do. Until we see him, we don't eve know for sure it is him" Hardison raised an eyebrow, "Yeah, ok, we know it's him. But I don't know any more than you do."

"What do we do?"

"Talk to him. Carefully. Let me take the lead on this. Where's Parker? Last thing we need is her walking in on this until we have a few answers."

"I'll text her – tell her we have a client interview so she doesn't need to come by until later. What about Sophie?"

"Theatre for at least a couple of hours. Said she'd likely not be around for the day. Better text her as well. Just to be safe". Nate sat quietly for a moment as the messages were sent. The men looked at each other as they heard the footsteps getting closer, almost afraid to watch his arrival in case somehow they were wrong, but equally afraid of what would happen if they were right.

"Guys" Jason's voice broke the silence, "this is Evan Simmons, who I am really hoping will be our newest addition to the kitchen. Evan – this is Nathan Ford and Alec Hardison. They own the place."

"Pleased to meet you both. Really nice place you have here." If Evan – Eliot – noticed their hesitation he didn't let on, holding out his hand. A few seconds later Nate shook himself out of his shock and returned the greeting. Hardison nodded, hoping he was smiling in a manner that wouldn't terrify.

"Uh – thanks. Please – have a seat. We tried your stuff. Really great."

"Yeah" Hardison found his voice. "Love the mushrooms."

"Thanks – it's the lemon juice. Gives it a distinctive taste."

Hardison did his best not to gasp, but a small sound must have come forth, because Eliot gave him a concerned look. "You OK man?"

"Fine – just a weird kind of deja-vu flashback thing. Nothing to worry about." Eliot smiled warmly for a response.

"So – Evan, where'd you learn to cook?"

"Can't really say Mr. Ford. Just seems to be something I know how to do."

"Please – it's Nate. We're pretty informal around here. Surely you've got some kind of training though. Jason says you're pretty comfortable with a knife."

Eliot shrugged slightly as a response. "Can't say man. It's just what I do."

There was a moment of silence as they waited for him to expand on his reply. "Look, thanks for your time, but this isn't going to work out. Hope you find someone else." He turned to leave.

"Whoa man – where ya goin'?" Hardison moved to block the exit. "What's not working?"

"Mr. Hardison…"

"No Mr. – just Hardison."

"Really? OK. Hardison, clearly you want some references or resume, and I can't give you that; I can't even give myself that." He sighed, taking a moment to size up the situation. For reasons he couldn't name, he felt he could trust these two. "Look – a few months ago I was in what we'll call an accident. I guess it was wrong place, wrong time. I don't know. When I woke up I didn't know who or where I was. Still don't remember what happened before. And not just right before the accident. I don't remember my life before waking up on that cot. The folks helping me didn't know much either, but did make it pretty clear to me that I'd be better off staying unofficial."

"So how did you remember your name, and where you were from?"

"I didn't really. There were a few things I had on me when I got hurt. Part of an ID tag, but it was messed up we could only make out initials. 'E. S.' The rest of the last name was obliterated by a chunk of shrapnel. I woke up the next morning with the name Evan Simmons in my head, so I assumed that was me. As for home – no idea. My 'rescuers' got me back to the US on the condition I told no one about them, or any details on how I got here. Since I had no one to tell, that wasn't a problem. Came into Oregon and I started looking for work in Portland. End of story. So, thanks for your time, sorry to waste it."

Hardison didn't step out of the way, looking over to Nate, who spoke up. "Relax…Evan. Trust me when I tell you that you are not the only one who has a few things better left unexamined. And for what it's worth, we have all the reference we need right here" pointing to the now empty plate. "Besides, Jason said he wants you in the kitchen, and that seals the deal for me."

"That's it? I'm hired? After what I just told you, or more accurately didn't tell you? Maybe I should be asking some questions."

"Maybe you should. Let's give this a couple of days to see how things shake out. But I think this is going to be a good fit. Go tell Jason he has his cook – sorry – chef."

After Eliot left Nate grabbed a pad of paper and started making a list. "Send another text to Parker and Sophie and tell them need to meet. Not here. We'll go to the theatre. We have to talk to any staff that was here when Eliot – died. They need to be filled in. I should call Shelly and let him know – we may need his help. I don't think we should contact his family yet – not until we have a better handle on everything. What?" Nate stopped talking when he looked up and saw the way Hardison was staring.

"You're not going to talk to him? What are you waiting for? The guy doesn't know who he is, and we do. What's up with that?"

"I'm – we're – going to tell him Hardison. But we need to know more first. Including why he doesn't know us. You heard him – he has no idea of his past, but he remembers his recipes, handles a knife like a pro? I don't think a head injury works that way. There may be more to this amnesia, in which case we need to tread softly. Let's just start of by sharing a bit of good news with Sophie and Parker, and deal with the rest from there."

An hour later they were sitting on the stage of the empty theatre. Sophie was rapidly growing more impatient, but the boys refused to share until Parker arrived. The second she did, Sophie pulled her into a seat and turned to Nate.

"OK – wipe those silly grins off your faces and talk – now."

"We have a new chef for the restaurant."

"That's it?" Parker exclaimed. "You pulled me off a rooftop for that?"

"What were you doing on a… never mind. Yes, we called you in for that. He's a very special chef – with a very distinctive style."

Sophie let out an exasperated sigh. "Nate what are… wait. Distinctive?" Nate smiled and nodded. Hardison was still grinning widely. "You can't be serious. You are serious? He's alive? He's back, he's really here?"

"Serious about what – who's back?" Parker hadn't picked up the clue. Hardison stepped over and took her hands in his.

"Eliot's back Parker. Sparky is back." Parker's response was completely as expected as she turned to run from the building with the intention of not stopping until she reached the pub. With effort, Nate blocked her path.

"Slow down – there is a lot we need to talk about."

"Where is he, why isn't he here, is he hurt, is he staying, where was he?"

"Was that all one question girl? You gotta breathe at some point in there." Hardison sat her down next to him. "First, he is still at the pub, and will be there tonight cooking. Since he has been hired as the chef, yeah, I think he plans to stay."

"Wait." Sophie interrupted. "What to do you mean hired?"

"Can we just hold off on the questions for a few minutes and let us tell you what we know?" Receiving nods for response, Nate filled them in on the morning meeting. Both women sat in stunned silence at the end, then Parker turned angrily to Hardison.

"You said Sparky was back. You lied."

"No Parker, he's back. He just doesn't know it yet. We are going to find a way to fix that."

"How?"

"That, Parker, is an excellent question." Nate turned his head to Sophie. "Open to suggestions here."

"Are you planning to let Shelly know about Eliot's resurrection?" On receiving an affirming nod, she continued. "I'm willing to bet he knows a few people with the right medical background to help out. Maybe even someone who knows Eliot."

"Good. We'll let 'Evan' think he needs a medical clearance for insurance. If we can find out the reason behind all of this, maybe we can start to fix it."

"You think he doesn't want to remember." Sophie was making a statement, not a question.

"Who knows? Maybe his subconscious remembers what happens and isn't ready to deal with it. If he thinks Shelly and the rest of his friends were killed. If he thinks he was responsible in some way. Maybe his subconscious has had enough, and this is his way out. Let's face it; Eliot has a lot of stuff worth forgetting."

"And worth remembering." Parker spoke softly. "Why wouldn't he want to remember us?"

"It's not that easy. The mind doesn't always follow a logical path. I'll call Shelly and see what I can find out. In the meantime, I guess we just have to get to know Evan."

The team found at least a dozen reasons for checking out progress in the kitchen that evening. There was a collective fear that this was some kind of mass hallucination that could end at a moment's notice.

It was late enough in the evening that the orders had slowed to a trickle, so 'Evan' finished putting the place in order, then pulled a chair to the corner of the room and sat back for a few minutes. Looking around the kitchen he was surprised to realize he was relaxing. For the first time since waking up in that makeshift hospital bed, he felt at ease. It was more than the relief of having a steady paycheque coming in, which had been a growing cause of concern. He'd been getting by on the money he'd earned cooking on the freighter he came home on, along with some day labour along the way since then. As a result, he hadn't had any opportunity get settled properly. For that matter, he hadn't been sure he'd be staying around here anyway. Things had changes and now finding a place to stay was at the top of his list. The shelter had been a step up from some of his recent accommodations, but not his preference.

He knew his sense of well-being came from somewhere else, although he was damned if he could figure where. There was just something right about this. The city, the job, even the pub; it all felt comfortable. And the people. Well, they were definitely interesting. He'd been aware of their scrutiny all evening, but tried to ignore it. Seemed a little strange to have that much interest given to a new employee, but maybe they were just a hands-on kind of operation.

Meeting the other two owners earlier in the afternoon had been, to say the least, interesting. They were certainly friendly enough, and appeared to enjoy his cooking. Parker loved the noodles enough for three servings. He was confident any probation period he might have been dealing with wasn't going to be an issue.

"You look beat." He jumped out of his seat, not having heard Nate enter the kitchen.

"Yeah, a little. Sorry. Just catching my breath for a minute" he said, rubbing the back of his neck to work out the stiffness.

"Relax El-Evan. You've been here almost 12 hours with your 'audition' this morning and a full shift in the kitchen. You're allowed to be tired. Why don't you call it a night? Anybody wants something beyond the basics, we'll tell them the kitchen is closed."

"That sounds good. Don't imagine I'll have trouble sleeping tonight."

"Do you usually? Have trouble I mean."

"Uh, no. Well, not really. Sometimes a little restless is all."

"And the injuries? Still bother you?"

'Evan' didn't answer right away.

"Sorry, not trying to pry. Well, maybe a little. Nosy by nature. The thing is I need you to see a doctor before I can add you to our health insurance. Just routine stuff. We've got a company guy you can see – no charge."

"OK. He's gonna tell you I'm a bit messed up, but I guess you figured that out."

"Well, you did say you were in an accident." There was no response. "And I can see when you're tired, like now, you seem a bit stiff." Still no response. Time to change the subject.

"Where are you staying?"

"Got a place not far." OK – that was an out and out lie. The shelter, not strictly speaking _his_ place, was on the other side of town. It was going to be a long walk home. It was a decent enough spot, and they had let him use the kitchen for his job hunt (in return for which he'd been helping with the meals). As he looked up, he knew Nate was onto the lie. He had a feeling not too much got by this man.

"Look, there are a couple of loft apartments upstairs here. They aren't fancy. Really more crash pads than anything else. We use them sometimes when working late, or if we need a place for a client to stay. If you'd like, you're welcome to rent one of them until you can save up enough to look for something a little more permanent. Hardison can give you a lift to wherever your stuff is and you can move in right now if you want."

"Why?"

"Sorry?"

"I've worked here a day. You hired me with no references, no resume, no background check. You have all watched me tonight like I was some kind of side show act. Now you're inviting me to move in. For all you know I'm a mass murderer. Hell, for all I know I'm a mass murderer. So what gives?"

"Let's just say I'm a very good judge of character – and you're a very good cook. The two traits come together to work in everybody's best interest in this case. Take the win."

After a moments silence the younger man nodded. "OK. I don't need to go back for anything – everything I own is in that duffle bag. Tonight, I just want to sleep."

He handed a key over. "Make yourself at home. Go, sleep."

Nate watched his friend walk away, and added quietly under his breath "welcome home Eliot".

 _TBC_


	4. Chapter 4

_This chapter, and indirectly pretty much everything I publish from here on, is dedicated to the amazingly supportive Kaniac Ladies who encourage me to keep going when I am pretty sure there is no reason to. I pledge to them I will not throw out my keyboard!_

Chapter 4

Nate spent most of the following morning on the phone. Quinn was the first call. It took no small amount of convincing, but finally he agreed to stay away for the moment. Nate doubted seeing Quinn would trigger any memories in Eliot, since none of the team had had that effect. On the other hand, the association with Quinn was a little more physical and if something did come back to him, the results might be unpleasant. What was really needed right now was someone to keep an ear to ground for rumors in the Black Ops world that Eliot was back. There was no way Evan could handle the appearance of anyone out to collect any of the dozen or more bounties on his counterpart. Tara also promised to watch of any indications that Eliot's return had been noticed, but only after being assured she would be notified the minute she could come see him for herself. It had taken a while for the two of them to warm up to each other when she had filled in for Sophie, but by the time they parted things had changed, and she was a bit surprised by just how delighted she was to know the hitter back in her world.

He saved the most important call for last. He could hear the stress in Shelly's voice the minute the younger man recognized his caller. "Is everything OK Nate? You need me for something?" There was a bit of hesitation in the question. Clearly he had been as uncomfortable working with them as they had with him. The tension was too high, and the emotions too raw. All of that was about to change.

"Hope you're sitting down Shelly. I've got news – good news. Eliot's here." Nate waited a few seconds for a response, but there was silence. He couldn't even hear breathing. "Shelly – are you there? Shelly?"

"If this is some kind of scam, or sick joke… No, of course it isn't. Even you guys wouldn't pull that. You're serious? He's alive? He's alive." The last words were almost whispered as he ran out of energy.

"Shelly, slow down. Yes, he's alive, and he's relatively OK but th…"

"What the hell does relatively mean?"

"That's what I'm trying to explain." Ten minutes and a few dozen questions later the situation had been clarified and they entered the planning stage.

"Yeah Nate, I know someone who can check Eliot over. Tony Richards. He's a medic from back in the day. Patched both of us up, more than a few times, so he knows Eliot which might be helpful. But why not take him to a doctor there? It's not like they'd have to report anything."

"Well, for one thing, he doesn't want to see a doctor. Had to convince him is was an insurance thing to make it work. So, if a real doctor starts raising issues, there could be problems."

"What issues? What problems?"

"Well, he might start by wondering why Eliot has more scars on him than your average crash test dummy. Even being in the service wouldn't explain everything. And I have a feeling if Eliot gets at all antsy about any of this, he could just up and disappear again. It's not like he feels that he has anything keeping him here.

"You said for one thing. Is there another reason?"

"Yeah – a regular doctor won't tell us anything, where your guy will. And we need to know what is going on if we're going to help sort this out."

"OK – give me a few days to work out the details and we'll be there."

"Shelly, you don't need to come." Again, Nate was greeted with silence. "Right – what was I thinking. Don't get your hopes up. He won't know who you are, and you can't tell him, at least not yet."

"I know that Nate. I just…I need to see him. I don't think I can really believe this until I do. You understand?"

"Yeah – I get it. We'll be waiting for you."

A week later things had started to settle into more of a routine. 'Evan' was quickly becoming a dominant force in the kitchen. Even the regular chef was ready to acknowledge the new guy had a unique perspective on food and was finding his input invaluable. They'd all gotten a little more used to the new name. After all, they'd had so many aliases in the past that this really was nothing more than another role.

Nate was waiting at the bar when Shelly arrived.

"Where is he?"

"Sit down. I'll get him out here in a minute. I know I'm repeating myself but…

"I got it Nate - he won't know me or remember anything before the explosion and I doubt seeing me will unlock everything. Tony gave me the full run down on what to expect. Including the fact we shouldn't lead him to his memories. Apparently it's better for him to come back on his own. Don't see why we can't give it a push, but I promised I'd play by the rules. Now get him out here."

Nate starred at him, not making a move to summon Eliot. Shelly took a deep breath. "I promise – I'll behave."

"Okay." Nate turned and nodded to Sophie, who had been waiting near the kitchen for his signal.

"Evan – have you got a minute. Nate's got a friend here he'd like you to meet."

After checking quickly to make sure everything was under control he grabbed a cloth and wiping his hands, joined her to head to the bar. The young man next to Nate was trying not to stare, and failing miserably.

"Good to meet you – I'm Evan."

"Uh – yeah. Hi. Sorry – you just reminded me of someone for a minute. Good to meet you too. Nate speaks highly of your skills. Looking forward to dinner."

"Evan, we're planning a little poker game after closing tonight. Care to join us?" Nate was hoping the informal atmosphere might help everyone feel a bit more relaxed.

"Tempting, but I'm not exactly rolling in funds at the moment, so I think I better pass."

"Oh, we don't play for high stakes. Nickel and dime really." At least that was how the evening would start. With a little bit of cheating and creative card playing they should be able to get some much needed cash into Eliot's hands before the night was over. "It's mostly an excuse to kick back with a few beers. Come on – sit in."

"Thanks for the offer, but…" He looked at their faces. What was he avoiding? They seemed sincere, and everyone had gone out of their way to help him fit in. It wasn't like he had other plans. And they certainly couldn't cheat him out of a fortune he didn't have. "What the hell, why not? You'll have to stake me until my boss gives me my first paycheque though."

"I think I can handle that. See you at closing time. Oh – fix up something for Shelly here will you – one of your special pizzas."

"One with the works coming up." He smiled as he returned to the comfort of his kitchen.

Nate turned to Shelly just in time to see the young man drop into his seat limply.

"It's really him. I know you told me, and I had no reason to doubt, but seeing him, talking to him. My God Nate, it's really him." They'd all had the same delayed reactions over the last few days. In the middle of a conversation, watching him working in the kitchen, and sometimes for no apparent reason whatsoever, one of them would suddenly shudder, or grin, or stare blankly as the reality struck again that Eliot was back. Now seeing Shelly have that same moment of revelation, Nate couldn't help but grin a bit.

Within an hour of closing time the game was well underway, with Eliot starting to accumulate a nice little pile of chips in front of him. Amoung the skills he had retained, poker was evidently near the top of the list. So far, no one had "forfeited". In fact, had they not come up with the plan for a game, they would have sworn they were being hustled.

"Where'd you learn to play poker like this?" Shelly asked.

He shrugged. "Just seem to know." He looked at the younger man. "Nate didn't fill you in on my story?"

"Nah - just that you were a bit of a mystery. I enjoy a good mystery. Care to share?"

"Not really. Sorry – don't mean to be rude, but no."

"No problem." He said the words, but didn't mean them. He and Eliot had been through so much together, most of which couldn't be told to anyone. They were part of a small, very exclusive group who shared that past, and losing the connection cut deeply.

"So what about you Shelly – what do you do when you're not playing cards?"

His standard answer of "If I told you I'd have to kill you" somehow didn't seem so amusing anymore. "I'm military." Short and to the point.

"Really? Career?"

"Yes sir."

"Seems like a rather strange choice. Don't get me wrong. I'm all for defending your country – I've got the distinct feeling my background supports that. But as a career? Seems like a brutal way to live your life."

There was silence at the table. They were all stunned by the irony of this point of view. Violence had been such a daily part of his life, not to mention that it was responsible for his current predicament. To hear him speak this way was startling. He misinterpreted their response.

"Oh, hey. I'm sorry man. I didn't mean to offend anyone. Like I said, I respect what you do. Anyone in service deserves that. Guess I'm just saying I couldn't see myself doing something like that. All the covert stuff, and the violence – not my thing."

"No offense taken" Shelly found his voice again. "It's not for everybody, I agree. It takes a certain kind of person to do what I do. Not good or bad – just us. A friend of mine taught me that."

Parker looked at him in surprise. Eliot had helped her learn the same lesson.

Looking at Hardison, Evan spoke again. "So, it that where you met Shelly – in the service together?"

Hardison tilted his head. "What makes you think I was in the service?"

"Tags", he responded, pointing at Hardison's chest. "Saw the dog tags on you the other day. I just assumed…"

"They ain't mine. They're from a friend. A really good friend."

"Must be – can't imagine somebody would hand those over to just anyone."

"No – he wouldn't. They're kind of a keepsake. Something to remember him by – like I could forget." He started to grin until he caught the look on his friend's face, and he realized what he'd said. "Oh hey man, I didn't mean anything."

"No sweat. I get it. You're lucky to have a friend like that. Lucky to have that memory."

Shelly broke the awkward silence. "Evan, I know you don't have all the info, but, well, the way you were hurt? Do you know what you were doing there in the first place?"

"All they could tell me is that I was helping out in a local village. I assumed it was some kind of Peace Corps or volunteer kind of thing. To be honest, I haven't remembered enough to even start to try to put things together." He wasn't comfortable with the way the conversation had turned. "Whose deal is it?"

Taking their cue, the others turned the conversation to lighter matters, and soon everyone was back to focusing on now trying to keep Eliot from walking away with all of their cash. A little while later the game wrapped with Eliot raking in the last pot of the night. "Looks like I can afford to pay you some rent now. What's the going rate for the room here?"

"That's already been factored into your pay." Nate came back with smoothly. "Don't worry about it."

"Really? You guys pay well for a back-up chef position." Eliot stared back.

"Let's just say we want to help you get back on your feet. Give it a few weeks and we'll renegotiate if that makes you feel better."

Too tired to argue, and having decided after spending a little over a week with the man that Nate was just too stubborn to waste time arguing with, Eliot nodded wearily. "In a little while we are going to have to sit down and have a serious talk about a few things. See you in the morning. Yes, I remember – after the medical check-up."

After he was gone, the others gave up the pretense of heading out for the night and regrouped around the table.

Shelly spoke first. "This is all so weird. I mean, he seems like Eliot when he's playing cards or joking around, but then when he starts talking about other stuff- totally not. He really doesn't remember anything about the accident, or before?"

"Nothing. He seems to have rationalized being in a situation that could get him that badly hurt without recognizing the most logical reason for being in a war zone, or whatever you want to call that part of the world. Do you think this "Doc" Richards of yours will be able to help him remember?"

"Man I hope so."

"Do you think he should?" Sophie asked quietly. All eyes turned to her. "Believe me, I want Eliot back as much as you all do, but do we have the right? Evan is relaxed, happy with his life. He goes to bed at a normal hour and, from all indications, sleeps through the night. No nightmares, no demons. Is it fair to give him back those memories?"

"Evan isn't Eliot. He's not himself. That's no way to spend your life. He'd want to come back to us." Parker tried to keep herself from being angry at Sophie. She knew it was a legitimate question, and maybe they were being selfish, but Eliot was Eliot, and he should be himself, not this pale imitation. She liked Evan, but it wasn't the same. He didn't joke with her, didn't call her crazy, didn't make her feel safe in the way only Eliot could. Evan was better than nothing, but not by much."

"There's more to it than that Sophie. What if the memories come back unexpectedly? What if he's in the middle of something and suddenly flashes on a fight or a battle? Or worse, on something he can't even tell us about. It would hit him like a freight train. If we can find a way to help Eliot remember in the right environment, and with support around, we need to do that."

Hardison had another concern. "What if someone comes after him? He has more than just Damien Moreau or the Butcher of Kiev in his past. There are lots of folks out there who want him, and not for anything pleasant. He needs to know about that – to be ready for it."

"Quinn will let us know if someone is coming after him."

"Quinn might not know until it's too late."

"OK, but he's still got us watching his back."

"We can't do it 24/7. He might get a little curious after a while. And even if we could, we aren't exactly the body guard types."

"Exactly" Parker added. "That's why we had him in the first place. Eliot was the hitter. Eliot was the protection. Eliot was the guy who could beat the crap out of 6 guys without breaking a sweat."

"Who's Eliot?" None of them had heard Evan come back. They were silent, not knowing how to respond. "He sounds like a real piece of work."

Nate hesitated for a moment. This was the opportunity. They could fill him in, talk it all out. But Evan didn't seem to think too much of his forgotten alter-ego, and introducing the two might not be the best plan right now.

"Just a guy we used to know. Shelly worked with him in the past."

Hardison felt the bizarre need to defend Eliot to Evan. "We probably gave you the wrong impression. He was one of the good guys. You know – the kind who would do anything for a friend. Kind of guy you could always count on to have your back. No matter what."

"You said you used to know him – what happened? If you don't mind my asking."

"We lost him in an accident. Typically, one where he was helping out his friends – again."

"So he was your friend with the dog tags?" Hardison nodded, afraid to speak again. "Sorry to hear that. Sounds like he was – interesting." He grabbed the jacket he'd left come back for. "See you in the morning. Shelly – nice to have met you."

They sat in silence for a moment, making sure their friend was out of hearing distance.

"That was just a tad awkward." Sophie stated the obvious. "Doesn't sound like he would be a fan of – well – himself. Of course, in many ways, he never was."

"Which is why you think this may all be a blessing in disguise?" Hardison made it sound more like an accusation than a question.

"I never meant to imply that. I just wonder if we aren't best to leave things alone, at least for now. I think he is still more fragile than he lets on. And yes, I realize the words 'fragile' and 'Eliot' don't belong in the same sentence. But as we keep coming back to – he isn't Eliot. Maybe…" she hesitated a moment "maybe Eliot did die that day."

They all sat in silence again, recognizing, and fearing, the veracity of her statement.

 _TBC_


	5. Chapter 5

Not surprisingly, he got a clean bill of health. Yes, there were injuries still healing, hence the stiffness and the limp. There were also indications of serious wounds that had healed. It was clear to see how the dog tags had been damaged when Doc saw the still prominent scars on his chest, overlying some older ones he remembered patching up for his friend. Shrapnel could do a lot of damage. He also advised them it would be best to leave Eliot alone when it came to his memories. There were no noticeable indications of a serious head injury, and without a full set of scans and tests that could not be explained as a basic physical there was no way of determining the nature of the problem. While it was likely, based on his other injuries, that there had been at the very least a serious concussion, it was equally likely that the trauma went beyond the physical. So it was decided that, unless circumstances changes, Eliot would remain buried in his subconscious. It was a decision they all had trouble with.

A few days after the check-up Nate came down to the kitchen mid-afternoon. Evan stood at the counter, looking off into space.

"Isn't it a bit dangerous to daydream with a knife in your hand? Whoa – slow down." The young man hand spun around quickly at the unexpected voice, knife held tight in his hand and pointed at Nate.

"Don't sneak up on me like that. Damn – sorry man. " He had the grace to look apologetic, realizing as he spoke that he hadn't been the victim here.

"No – it's ok. You alright? You were a million miles away."

"I just – I thought I was… Did you ever get the feeling there was something you knew, something important, but you just can't quite get at it? I keep getting this sense of stuff, but nothing tangible, nothing real."

"You think your memory is trying to come back and just can't break through?"

"I don't know. Maybe." He leaned back against the counter. "It's like there is some kind of dense fog. I know there is movement there, something hiding. But I can't make it out. Not even shapes or outlines. Just the knowledge there's something. It's driving me nuts."

"Have you thought about trying to force the memories?" An arched eyebrow indicating curiosity encouraged Nate to continue. "You could try hypnosis or something; try to clear out some of the fog. I think there are drug treatments too."

"No drugs. Don't trust them. Besides, I don't like needles."

"Seriously?"

"What can I say? Don't like getting jabbed. Hypnosis – maybe if things get too crazy" he pointed to his head "in here, I'll think about it. It's a weird feeling man. Like a blackout I guess. Just this feeling part of your life has been lost in some kind of deep permanent lost weekend hangover. You got any idea what that feels like?"

Nate grinned. "Yeah – a little bit."

"And what happens if I do remember, and wish I hadn't? Maybe I was a real jackass – or worse. One of the councillors at the shelter said I should check with the cops in case there was a missing persons report on file. Kept telling me someone might be looking for me."

Nate tried to keep a casual look and tone. The last thing Eliot needed was to alert the officials as to his whereabouts. The number of law enforcement organizations that would be interested was staggering. "Why didn't you?"

"Doesn't feel right. I can't explain why, but I don't think anyone is waiting with a light in the window for me to come home. I don't have the sense that anybody misses me or wants me back." He tried to keep his tone neutral, but Nate could hear the wistful sorrow underneath. " _If you only knew_ " he thought, " _just how much we want you back_ ".

"He told me could get the cops to run a fingerprint check on me any time I'm ready. See if anything comes up, but I kept wondering what would happen if the prints match up for the wrong reasons. Who knows, maybe I'm some kind of wanted felon or something. Gotta to admit though – I sorta wonder if I'm going crazy. I mean, what happens if I never figure out who I was?"

He looked lost and vulnerable as he sighed softly and turned back to his work. This was not a look Nate was used to seeing on the younger man; the emptiness in his eyes and faraway gaze were heartbreaking. That moment was the closest Nate came to breaking down and coming clean on the whole story. But the moment passed.

In the six weeks since Eliot had reappeared, they had almost stopped thinking of him that way. Evan had become a natural part of the pub, and even the stumbling over his name didn't occur (much) any more. They still kept the full nature of Leverage Inc. secret from him. When he had asked about the business, they described it as a sort of ombudsman service, intervening to represent those who were fighting against people or organizations with more power. He seemed intrigued by the concept, to the point of offering his assistance if they ever thought he could be of help.

"Can't imagine what I could contribute," he'd said at the time, "but I'd been willing to lend a hand sometime." It was all they could do to keep Parker from spilling the whole story after that, but she silenced herself, glaring at the team as she stalked out of the room. So instead of drawing Evan into the operation, they continued to take jobs that allowed for a less aggressive approach. Bringing in outside help was not an option. Anyone recognizing Eliot could endanger Evan. As long as those who'd had a price on his head continued to believe he was dead, there was no threat.

The last of the customers had left about 10 minutes earlier after a busy Friday night. Evan was helping Cassie with closing the place up, bussing the tables while she closed out the cash.

"You don't have to do that Evan – you've had a busy night."

"Well, so have you, and it will go faster with help. Why do you agree to the late shift when you've got your little guy at home to be tucked in? What did you say he is – three years?"

She nodded. "My husband can handle that on the odd night I work late. Tips are good on a Friday, and the cash is always appreciated." Just as she reached to turn out the outdoor light and lock up the door slammed open, knocking her back and almost off her feet. Two men burst in the door, guns pointed straight at her. On spotting a second employee, the thug in the leather jacket turned his weapon. "OK folks, no need for anyone to get excited here. You know what we want, so let's just hurry the process along."

"Sorry man, you're too late. Boss took the cash a few minutes ago. There is some petty cash left for tomorrow, but the evening take is gone." He wasn't sure why he was lying to these guys, but hoped it would inspire them to turn tail and run. He doubted it would work, and was right.

"Nice try – we've been watching and no one left. So hand over the bag under the counter – NOW."

Cassie turned to get the deposit, but Leather Jacket caught her arm. "Not so fast darling. You stay right here with me. You're too pretty to let out of reach." He leered, and she fought the nausea that rose.

"Keep your hands off her – I'll get you the damn cash."

"Ah, now don't be offended – you're kinda pretty too. Just not my type." Leather let out a laugh while his partner snickered.

He could feel himself shifting, subtly changing his stance. He had taken on the posture of a hunter, quietly waiting for his prey to enter into the danger zone. His eyes shifted, almost imperceptibly, between the two would-be robbers, determining which would be the first to fall. Leather Jacket took another step closer to Cassie, reaching out to her face and brushing back a stray lock of hair. The diversion was all he needed. One hand grabbed an empty wine bottle from the table he'd been clearing and threw it with unerring accuracy at the second hood, taking him out of commission. He took three steps to close the gap between himself and Leather. In the blink of an eye he had kicked the gun from the thug's hand and grabbed his arm, twisting it far enough back to feel a pop from the shoulder. Grabbing the jacket collar he slammed the man onto the bar, sending him into unconsciousness. The encounter had barely taken 5 seconds. He picked up the gun that had been dropped, ejected the clip and cleared the slide. He looked down at his hand, wondering exactly how he had done that, but before he could process anything, Cassie was hugging him, fighting back tears.

"Oh my God – are you alright? Thank you – thank you. How did you – where did you learn…?"

"No idea. Are you OK? You better call the cops. And get Nate down here."

A couple of hours later the cops were gone, prisoners in tow after medics had determined them to be more or less alright. Both tried to take a wide turn as they passed their attacker, who leaned against the wall next to the door watching them. How could a guy in an apron be that dangerous? It had been agreed by all parties to keep the episode and the police report low key, in an effort to avoid the chance the media would take any interest in a local hero stopping the theft.

Nate walked up to the pensive man in question and handed him a beer while guiding him over to a table. "You ok?"

"Yeah, fine. How's Cassie?"

"Extremely grateful. The cops gave her a lift home. She can't stop talking about you. I'm pretty sure that if she ever has another kid it'll be named Evan – even if it's a girl." He grinned, but got no similar response.

"What the hell Nate? How did I do that? Here I've been thinking I was a nice, easy going kind of guy, and next thing you know I've gone ninja on their asses."

"Adrenaline is a strange force; makes people do all kinds of things."

"Screw force, how did I know what to do? I don't remember thinking about it or debating with myself about the wisdom of trying. I just did it. Second nature. I mean, it's one thing to cook or throw darts or play cards second nature, but to take out two armed criminals? Am I crazy?" He looked genuinely frightened that the answer might be yes to that.

"Look, Evan. Whatever it was that inspired you to do this, it was right. You have to trust that your instincts, your natural instincts, will guide you on this kind of thing. You said yourself you thought you might have some kind of military service in your background. Why?"

"Don't know – maybe because of the accident that caused all of this, maybe just a sense of – I don't know – training?"

"Well maybe that training is what kicked in. Whatever it is, the two of you are ok because of it, so I say sit back, be grateful and take the win."

"Maybe. I don't know." He shook his head and pushed the beer away, looking lost. "I thought I was doing OK with this. Yeah, it would be good to know who I was, but I was beginning to think I was OK about not being able to remember. Now? Crap – I'm not even sure I want to remember. How screwed up is that?" He quickly stood and headed to the door. Nate reached out to stop him, but dropped his hand when he realized he had nothing to say that could possibly help.

Hearing the next day of the adventure in the pub just made Parker miss Eliot more. She knew he was still there, still her Sparky hiding somewhere inside. The proof was there now. She tried to accept Evan, and she'd even grown to like him, more than she thought she would. But she resented him too. She couldn't look at him without thinking that he had stolen Eliot from them – that somehow this was all his fault. It was all crazy, but then, as Eliot had been so fond of telling her, so was she. So now, feeling lost and confused again, she did what she'd done dozens of times since this started all those months ago. She headed to Hardison's laptop and opened up some surveillance files from old cases, putting the images on the big screen. She could hear Eliot growling at Hardison to shut up, at her to hurry up, or at Nate and Sophie to stop fighting and make a call. On other clips, she could watch him case out a room, size up an opponent and clear the path for the team to make their escape. And she could see the way he would look at them as he brought up the rear. Watching to make sure they were safe. Smiling ever so slightly, when he thought they couldn't see, as they joked with each other. Guarding them like a hawk. God help the mark who tried to come between the Hitter and his team.

This day, because she wanted – needed – even more, she resorted to a clip she rarely watched. She pulled up the message he had left for them. It wasn't quite as painful anymore, now that he was back, but it still hurt to see the man he'd been. To hear the care and concern he had for them, even as he prepared for his own death. Yet, knowing he wasn't gone, even though he wasn't here, made this tape special. Because the words and tone of the message gave her hope that Eliot was strong enough despite all that had happened, to one day finish coming back. So she listened again, holding onto the pendant she still wore every day, not realizing she wasn't alone. When it was over, she turned off the computer and left the room, and the observer.

He had gone to the office early, looking for Nate. After a sleepless night, he had an inordinate number of questions running through his mind, and for some reason believed Nate would have answers. Ever since they'd met he hadn't been able to get past the feeling that there was more to Nate and the others than they let on. He'd been drawn to this town, this pub. It all felt somehow comfortable in a world that in all other ways had become very uncomfortable to him. This place, this pub and these people gave him an illusion of peace, or at least something close to it. But with it was a small dark cloud hovering in the distance. The awareness that while much of this felt right, there was something wrong. After last night's outburst, the need for answers had become more acute. He wasn't sure he trusted himself anymore. He needed to know the real story, and he was all but certain Nate could provide the details. He was far less certain he would be happy with them.

The office was empty when he arrived, and as he debated whether to wait, he heard soft footsteps coming. Too light to be Nate or Hardison, and no heels, so not Sophie. That left only Parker. In no way was he up to dealing with Parker right now. There was something about her he could not put his finger on. There was no doubt that she was just a little crazy, but in a way that intrigued him. It was clear she was with Hardison, so the idea of any relationship was totally out of the question. Didn't matter, that wasn't how she intrigued him. There was an overwhelming desire to protect her, even though most of the time she gave of a vibe that clearly said she could take care of herself. He was sure she had done just that for years. As much as he felt that connection, he also found at times it was just too hard to be around her. He couldn't shake the feeling he had somehow let her down; that he should be something more for her, but didn't have a clue what that should be. The result made her exhausting to be around, and this morning he wasn't up to it. So he hung back when she came in.

He'd been near the back anyway, hidden by the morning shadows. Hoping she was planning on staying only a moment, he remained still. The stillness became a paralyzing force as the videos appeared on the screen. His mind could scarcely register the images he saw. He was fighting, beating on people with abandon. He was with Nate and the others. They were clearly friends, or at the very least co-workers. No, he could see the looks. They were friends. Then the message came up. He forgot how to breathe as its significance registered. **This** was Eliot Spencer. **He** was Eliot Spencer _._

 _TBC_


	6. Chapter 6

He'd somehow thought that when the first solid lead on his past life came, the memories would flood back like a broken dam. But nothing came to him. The images, the voice, the name – none of it made a difference. He still didn't know who he was. But they did. They had known all along, and kept it from him. He'd asked questions, given them every opportunity to share this vital information. They'd failed to do so. They'd refused to do so.

Slowly he came back to the moment. Noting that Parker had left, it dawned on him that being caught in here, in his present state of shock bordering on a panic attack, would not be the best plan. He pulled himself together enough to be able to put one foot in front of the other and made a hasty retreat to the kitchen. Knowing that the mindless routine of chopping, slicing and dicing would allow his brain time to regroup he pulled out the produce needed for the lunch menu and started processing. The results were some of the most finely minced onions ever seen in any kitchen. The problem was they were supposed to be onion rings. Wiping the blade and tossing the cloth to the side he told a waiter needed a bit of fresh air and headed out for a few minutes.

He stood on the loading dock at the back, watching the world go by, feeling totally detached from it all. Nothing made sense. Nothing was real. _He_ wasn't real.

The team arrived together mid-afternoon after meeting with another satisfied client. As they headed for the office, Jason waylaid them, looking nervous. "Guys - Evan is back there. Waiting. Something is wrong, and he won't say what. He looks pissed off and that is one scary look on the guy. Never would have expected it of him."

They looked at each other. Nate shrugged. Only one way to find out what was going on.

"What's up Evan? Jason said you wanted to talk."

He was sitting at the desk, laptop in front of him. He spun it toward Hardison.

"Eliot – not Evan. You can drop the pretense. Find me the files she was watching. I want to see everything you've got."

"El – you remembered!" The grin of Sophie's face froze when she registered the anger in his voice.

"No – I don't remember anything **.** I saw it. She" he nodded toward Parker, "was watching."

They turned to her. "I, uh, was, well. I miss him OK. I watched some of the old surveillance stuff, and his last message. Well I didn't know he was here."

"Find me the files Hardison – now."

"No" Nate intervened.

Eliot got to his feet and stormed over, standing face to face with Nate. "Why not – it's me isn't it? The real me. The one you have known about all this time but couldn't be bothered to fill me in on. What the hell is that about? How could you do that man? Is this some kind of sick little game for you guys? I'm walking around in a fog, and you just watch for entertainment. Maybe a betting pool going on – when does Eliot come back?"

"It's not like that." Sophie reached out to him, and he pulled back so quickly she almost fell. He took a few steps away.

"Don't touch me – don't any of you come near me." He paced the room, like a stalking tiger, looking for the opportunity to pounce. His fists were clenched and the tension radiated from him. He looked fiercely at Nate. "Certainly explains last night a little better. Surprised I didn't kill them. Wouldn't have been a first, would it? Just how many times have I killed for this little business of yours? Or before?" No one spoke. "Shelly –military or mercenary? That's all part of it too isn't it? Who the hell am I?" His voice was getting louder with each word until he was at full volume. Then, as if a switch had been flipped he dropped to a whisper. "Who the hell am I?"

He looked up at them as they stared back. No one spoke. His eyes darted from one to the next, almost daring them to answer. It had been a long time since Nate had seen that look. It was dark, icy and soulless. The memories may not have resurfaced, but the long buried heart of a cold blooded hitter had. He knew if Eliot left this room, he wouldn't be coming back.

"Please. Give us a chance to try to explain this. You said you saw the message. You know we were – we are – friends. Let us prove it. Please."

Eliot turned from them and walked to the window, shoving his hands into his pockets to control the shaking. He hated this. Hated the feelings, the confusion, and especially the anger. He knew they were right. The message plainly showed how he felt. These people had been his family. But the last weeks put all of that in question. He no longer knew who he could trust, and that included himself. What he had seen on the screen scared him. It didn't sound like him; didn't feel like him. Of course, the same could be said of the man he was the night before, and the man he was right now. He'd been awake most of the night trying to reconcile his actions. That fight was not amateur. No one takes down two armed men with a wine bottle and a few punches. No sane person would even try. Oh sure, maybe in the movies, but not in the course of a real life robbery. He needed answers. That was why he had come back to confront these people. Walking out would solve nothing. He moved over to the work table and pulled a chair off to side, distancing himself from the others.

"Convince me."

Four sighs of relief filled the air. A few moments later everyone was seated. Eliot declined a coffee, or any other social nicety. He pulled a chair off to the side, distancing himself from the group. He had no intention of making this comfortable.

Trying with limited success to put on a relaxed air, Nate started.

"Not to make excuses, but I want to start by saying that for the most part we've been following doctor's orders. We were told it was best for you to remember this on your own. Especially since there didn't seem to be a physical cause for the amnesia. You've got to believe us when we say that wasn't easy watching you go through this. If there'd been any other way. But there wasn't." Eliot's face remained impassive.

"OK – well as you have figured out, you are Eliot Spencer. You've been with us for a little more than 4 years. Before that you were what you euphemistically called a Retrieval Specialist. In simplest terms – a thief with a very specialized set of skills for hire. And a damn good one. Very few people were considered to even be in your class, let alone be your equal. Basically you recovered items that were taken from people who were, usually, the rightful owner."

"At any price?" he questioned.

"If you mean could you demand high payment - absolutely. If you mean did you have boundaries and limits on what you would do, again the answer is absolutely. For one thing, you don't use guns. You can; believe me you can. But you don't unless pushed to the very edge."

Eliot nodded, keeping to himself the moderate degree of relief that news brought him.

"Since working with us, you have stopped being a hitter for hire."

"Wait – hitter? I thought I was a thief."

"Both. The kinds of jobs you took on, one usually required the other." Parker explained.

"So violence was my way of life. Guess I owe Shelly an apology. At least he is working for the military – serve and protect. I just seem to get my thrills beating people up."

"No!" Sophie wouldn't let that pass. "You don't get your thrills that way. You have no qualms about taking someone out if the need is there, but you don't go picking fights either. You're not a bully. In fact, you usually take them on, and then take them down. Eliot, you use your 'violence' to help people in trouble, to help kids…to help us. You told me once it was all about controlling the violence, inside. And you do that."

He looked at her for a moment. She seemed so sincere, so anxious to convince him of his merits. Of course, she had seemed sincere in the past, and he'd learned that lesson. Looking back, he signalled Nate to continue.

"Like she said, you help people. We help people. I wasn't lying when I told you Leverage Inc. is in the business of helping the little guy take on the tyrants. I just didn't go into detail. We basically pick up where the law stops."

"In other words, we're criminals. This just keeps getting better and better."

Hardison nodded. "Hitter, hacker, grifter, thief" he said, punctuating each title by pointing to the appropriate individual.

"What about him?" he asked, pointing to Nate. "Evil mastermind?"

Nate grinned. "Well, 'Evil' seems a little judgemental. Ok – yes. Sometimes. Especially in the beginning. You usually tried to rein me in on that score. Rarely succeeded, but always tried."

Eliot leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and resting his head in his hands, slowly massaging his temples. This was not going as he'd planned – expected. Hell, hoped. He was trying very hard to keep on hating these guys, but his resistance was wearing down. This all felt familiar, sitting together and talking things through. He didn't want this to get comfortable. He looked up to see them all watching him, waiting for him to take the lead again. He shifted, focusing his resentment.

"So you didn't listen to me in the past either. Sounds like a pattern."

"I didn't listen to anybody much for a while Eliot. I was too angry, too full of self-pity to give a damn. You helped me get past that. You talked me down from a few bad calls, and bailed my ass out when I was too stupid to listen on other ones. No matter how pissed off you were, and I gave you lots of reason to be pissed off, you always had my back. Our backs."

Sophie leaned forward. "When we thought you had died, back when all of this started, it just about ended us. And then you came back. At least part of you did. We were so afraid of screwing it up, losing you again. We wouldn't have survived losing you again." She paused, looking him straight in the eye. "We won't survive it."

Eliot fought to maintain his focus, his anger. He wasn't going to let sentiment get in the way.

"What about my past – before all of this."

"We don't know. OK – before you bellow, hang on. Whatever you did, whatever you were, you didn't share too much of it with us. I won't lie. We know enough to know you were a rather unpleasant adversary. There are people, for that matter, countries that have a price on your head. You told us once that there are things you did that you will never be clean from." They watched as Eliot's face went blank. His mind tried to deny what he was hearing, but he had known from the start of this conversation what they would eventually tell him. He was a stone cold killer. Some kind of hired assassin, or worse, some kind of psychopath. Why would these people even want him around? He realized Nate was still talking, and he forced himself to hear the rest.

"That's old news Eliot. You haven't been that guy for a long time. Personally, I would guess that debt is paid, but I doubt you'll ever see it that way." Nate paused. One look convinced him Eliot was not fully buying into this. He had to find a way, something to say that would turn the tide.

"Eliot - when we met, on the first job, you said you trusted me because I was an honest man. Well, as strange as this is going to sound to you, after everything we just told you, you are quite possibly the most honest man I know. You have no hypocrisy in you. You believe in what you believe, and hold yourself to a higher standard than you hold anyone else. You're harder on yourself than you need to be. And your moral code…well it may be a bit different from what most people follow, but I think it's a pretty solid guide."

There was silence in the room, all eyes on Eliot. He stood and began pacing, processing. In some ways he felt like he knew less than before and in others he felt overloaded. He couldn't stay still. There was so much nervous energy pulsing through he could barely contain it. Rapidly he clenched and released his fists, pounding them into his legs. He knew their eyes followed him, waiting for – what? Acceptance? Explosion? Anger? Memories?

None of this had helped the memories. The slate remained blank. Were they right? If this wasn't physical, was it repressed? Did he dread the details they had been unable to provide so much that he was willing to give up everything to detach from them? He felt an overwhelming need to shut down. Turn everything off and start from scratch. Maybe that's what the memory loss had all been for in the first place.

"Enough. I – I can't figure this out right now. I need to sort… I need to… Damn, I have no clue what I need." He took a slow deep breath. "Can you manage in the kitchen without me today?"

Nate wanted to laugh. It was a perfect example of what he'd been trying to say. Eliot's life was collapsing around him – again. And his concern was that someone could cover him on slice and dice for supper tonight. "Yeah Eliot. For an afternoon we can manage. Just for one afternoon though. You'll be back tomorrow." It wasn't a question, but Eliot answered him anyway.

"I'll be back. Can't say for how long." He left them without looking back.

Parker curled up in her chair, fighting back tears. "He's not going to stay. He doesn't trust us anymore."

"I don't think he's decided yet." Hardison replied. "But I think maybe he's leaning that way. What else can we do Nate – how do we turn him?"

"We don't. We can't manipulate him. No games, no lies." He glanced to Sophie and added "no neuro-linguistic programming. If he thinks for one second we are playing him, he will walk, and we'll never see him again. All we can do is be straight with him, and try to let him see that we truly are on his side. He may give us a month to convince him, he may give us a day. But if we try to screw around, we're done."

"So treat him like Eliot." Hardison concluded. "Not a dude you want to mess around with."

"Exactly."

 _TBC (almost done folks - I think!)_


	7. Chapter 7

When Eliot showed up at the kitchen Sunday there was an envelope waiting for him. A quick glance showed him Hardison had printed out all of the biographical info he had, limited though it was. He wasn't ready to read it all yet, but recognized the conciliatory gesture. Tucking it away, he got to work.

Parker showed up a while later, putting in a request for her favorite "yummy black noodles". Had it been anyone but her showing up with a lunch order he'd have been suspicious of the motive, but one thing was painfully clear with Parker – she didn't have guile in her repertoire. So he made her noodles, she grinned as she ate and she left, telling him the same thing for supper would be fine.

Sophie, on the other hand, was nothing but guile. In this case, all meant in the nicest possible way. She found small reasons for coming by, pretty much taking him back to her actions the first days he returned. There was no way on earth anyone could drink that much tea in one day. He got that she was trying to show support, to convince him that things could be normal again. He appreciated the effort, even if he didn't fully believe it. He was surprised to realize that he actually didn't doubt her, just the message.

Nate – well Nate was the Nate he had come to know, and strangely like. No apologies, no pretense. Just charge ahead. The only concession to the previous day's revelations came in the form of a request, late in the day. Along with everything else he was processing, Nate gave him another problem to consider. He wanted Eliot back on the team, back at Leverage. Would he think about that? Truth be told, that had already been highly placed on his "think about it" list. Knowing he was wanted back helped sort the options, and helped confuse him at the same time.

And so it went. Gestures, some small, some major, from everyone, trying to create a sense of normalcy in the Pub. If the staff was a bit surprised by the change from Evan to Eliot, they took it in stride. Wasn't the first time their employers had acted a bit peculiar, and they were sure it wouldn't be the last. But as long as Eliot was still there cooking, they were happy.

While a voice in his head kept telling him to pack up and head out, another louder voice advised him to sit tight and let things play out. He silenced the first, and decided to give himself at least a week to try to figure things out. Which is why, one week after the robbery, he was again helping Cassie close the Pub on Friday night. He hadn't planned on staying late. He'd been in early covering lunch prep and the afternoon shift, and was ready to call it a day when he saw Cassie come on duty. Nate told him she had come to him, asking for the assignment. She needed to face her fears, and the only way to do so was to get back on the horse. Eliot decided she needed someone sharing the ride with her, and was wiping tables after a 14-hour day.

"Honestly Ev – Eliot. You didn't need to stay. I'm fine."

"Did it occur to you that maybe I need to do this too? I was part of it all last week – remember?"

"Yeah – I saw you in action, which is why I seriously doubt that you are having trouble dealing with the trauma. But, if that's the best you can offer, I'll take it." He grinned outwardly, while thinking she was lucky she had no idea what he was dealing with, and kept cleaning tables.

"Nate tells me you plan to name your next kid after me" he teased. "What if it's a girl? Evan is not a great name to saddle her with."

She looked up puzzled. "I thought Eliot was your real name."

"Yeah, but Evan was the guy who came through for you. I'm not sure about Eliot yet."

"Pretty sure they're both worthy. Anyway, I've got a few months to make up my mind." She grinned.

"Months? You mean…? Hey, that's great!"

"I didn't even know when I was joking with Nate. Doctor told me after checking me out for stress from all of this. If it's a girl, maybe Eva?"

He looked down smiling shyly. "Not necessary. But do me a favor. With your last name, not Eliot. Eliot Ellison is just wrong."

She laughed, nodding in agreement. "Deal."

Neither heard the door open as they joked. It was only the slight breeze from the movement that alerted Eliot to the intrusion. Looking up, but with his back turned, he caught a glimpse of the reflection of Leather Jacket in the bar mirror, gun raised to dispose of the witnesses who could take him down. He knew there wasn't enough time to cross the room in time to stop him. Hoping the stunt would work twice, but not for a moment expecting it to, he grabbed a full wine bottle from the box he had been unloading and flung it backwards, pushing Cassie down with the other hand, and trying to block her at the same time. He didn't see that the bottle made full contact with the shooter's head as he pulled the trigger, dropping him like a stone. He didn't hear Cassie grunt as she hit the ground, safe from any danger. He only felt the bullet rip into him as he collapsed to the floor and began gasping for breath.

The battle sounds made their way to that back office where the team had been waiting for a chance to talk to Eliot. They charged out in response, Hardison with cell phone in hand dialling 911 as they collectively skidded to a stop. Nate moved again instantly, dropping at Eliot`s side and pressing a bar towel onto the wound. Cassie had already moved to his head, cradling him gently in her lap. He looked up at her. "Remember – not Eliot" he said, passing out.

"No, Eliot." Nate shouted at him and shook gently. "You don't get to leave us again. Not happening. Eliot, stay with me. Hold on." The others had circled as well; Parker at his feet, whispering Sparky over and over; Hardison holding his hand. "Dammit Eliot – you can't do this to me man." Sophie knelt behind Cassie, supporting her and quietly praying for Eliot to defy the odds one more time.

Late the next evening the team was scattered around Eliot's room. Nate had dozed off sitting by the bed, head resting on the mattress, waiting for him to rejoin them. They'd been lucky – again. As terrifying as things had appeared at the scene, the bullet had actually done minimal damage, on the scale of things. A fair bit of blood loss, but no serious issues. Now it was just a matter of getting his strength back before he could leave. Eliot had heard the doctor telling all of this to Nate a little while ago, without letting on he was awake. He lay there reviewing the last few months. It was all there now. His past, both distant and recent, was clear in his mind. He remembered everything, from the rescue mission to the shooting at the pub. He remembered Evan, and his confusion and uncertainty. He hated that feeling, not being used to being out of control. Damn lucky he hadn't run into anyone from the old days during that time. He doubted Evan would have survived it. On the other hand, he did OK during the first robbery. Maybe there was something to be said for instincts after all.

Mostly, he remembered the reactions of the team. Looking back, he could now see their confusion and uncertainty too. He could understand why they did what they did, keeping him a secret from – well from himself. And, to a degree, they were right. He probably wouldn't have handled all of the information very well. The real Eliot was not an easy guy to live with – he should know.

Still, he felt a bit uneasy about everything that had played out. He needed to know that he could count on them to be honest with him, no matter what. There had been trust issues in the past, for all of them. He thought they'd worked past them, but now? Now he needed to be sure.

He coughed and moaned softly, knowing that would bring the others to life. He was right. Four figures surrounded his bed in seconds. Eliot opened his eyes and spoke one word. "Home?"

Nate laughed softly. "Not for at least a few hours – make that days." Eliot shook his head, but Nate held firm. "You got shot Eliot. Don't worry, nobody else was hurt."

"'cept the bad guy dude – you took him down."

Nate silenced Hardison with a glare and went back to Eliot. "Most people take that as a sign to take a few days off. But of course, when have you ever done what most people do." Eliot shrugged, wincing at the way his body reacted to the movement. OK, maybe he'd stay here for a day – tops.

He coughed again, and Parker offered him ice chips, which were gratefully accepted.

"Shot? No, that's not right. It was Explosion. How'd I get here?"

They team looked at each other. He hadn't questioned being called Eliot, but he was back to the explosion. This wasn't good.

"Eliot, what's that last thing you remember."

He hesitated a moment. "I was in… well I was with… I can't tell you."

"You were with Shelly. He told us, a little."

"What did he tell you? Everybody OK?"

"Everyone's fine Eliot. That's the last thing you remember?"

"Should there be more?"

Nate processed the situation quickly and started filling in the history. "He didn't tell us much; just that the mission was a mostly a success, with one exception. You didn't come home." He paused for a second as the memories threatened to overtake him. "We all thought you were dead. Then 4 months later you showed up at the Pub with no idea of who you were."

"That's crazy."

"Tell us about it." Parker agreed. "You were this guy named Evan, who didn't play guitar, or steal things, or fight – well it turned out he could fight, but still, didn't like it. But he could cook as good as you do. And throw darts and play poker. He was you, but he wasn't Sparky. You know?"

Eliot reached up with his free hand pinching the bridge of his nose. He felt a headache coming on. It was like old times.

Sophie reached out to silence Parker. "Slow down Parker, you're throwing way too much information at him." Parker bit her lower lip and quieted. Eliot gave Sophie a grateful look and turned back to Nate.

"You got a job as the Pub assistant chef – yes assistant. And we didn't let on that we knew you. Doc said it was best you remembered on your own. Led to a few issues, which I think are best discussed at a time you are feeling a little more like yourself."

"How'd I get shot?"

"Robbery. Like I said, nobody else got hurt. Cassie is fine, although I am pretty sure she won't be working closings anymore."

"So when do I go home?"

"Let's give that a couple of days, shall we. And um, well - we will need to discuss the whole 'home' thing." Eliot raised his eyebrows. "Well, you were missing for months. And everybody thought you were – well - dead – until you walked in the door, so…"

"You sold my place – my stuff!?" The icy glare was back.

"Not all of it, and we didn't sell so much as lease." It was scary to see that look on Eliot again. Good, but definitely scary. The team took it as a cue that possibly Eliot needed a bit of quiet time to absorb all of this information, and hastily decided it was a good time for a strategic retreat, disguised as a coffee break. All but Nate left the room. He looked straight at the hitter, who was forcing himself to calm down.

"So, did we pass your test Eliot?" Damn – it was hard to put one over on Nate.

"How…?"

"You didn't ask who Cassie was. Wasn't sure about it until then."

"Could you always read my mind?"

"No, not always. Didn't do a very good job for the last few months."

"Yeah – but that was Evan. He was a very different guy."

"Not really all that different. Just a little less schooled in the ways of the world."

"And you weren't about to share my education with him. It's OK Nate, I get it. Not sure I like it, but I get it." He paused for a moment. "Got to admit Nate. There's a little part of me wishes he was still around. I think it was kind of nice not remembering everything."

"Maybe that's why he showed up in the first place. Let's face it Eliot, you've got a lot of demons in there – and they work overtime. Maybe it was time for them to have a vacation."

"You take up psychiatry while I was away? Don't quit your day job." He smiled to soften the comments. "Doesn't much matter why it happened. It's done now. You're stuck with me again."

"Worse things in life. We'll set things up for you to have a place when you get out of here – in a couple of days." Eliot growled softly, but Nate was pretty sure he had a remedy for that.

"Got a list of clients waiting too. You ready to start earning your keep again?"

 _The end – well, at least for now._


End file.
